


A Hero in His Own Mind

by GreenRoyale



Category: Loki: Agent of Asgard, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Tragedy, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Pain
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-01
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2020-04-06 03:26:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19054297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenRoyale/pseuds/GreenRoyale
Summary: Every villain is a hero in their own mind...What makes Loki a villain?Au fic





	A Hero in His Own Mind

A cold storm brewed outside. The winds were howling and the skies were growing ever so dark. Accompanied by the noises of the storm were grunts and screams of a woman in labour.

  
She was the queen of the land, the mother of the realm as she leads the nation with her husband. He stood there with her, tuning out the noises outside so he could focus on her. The truth was that there was a war waging outside in the darkness, a situation of life and death both within and outside of these quarters.

  
“The enemy is breaching the first garrison, Sire!” a guard told the king. “They’re closing in.”

  
As the young king held his wife’s hand in his grasp, he was torn between fortifying his soldiers or being here for his beloved. Right this moment, neither needs him any less than the other. He has to find a way somehow to win both wars.

  
“Tell the men, I will join the troops,” he told the guard, sending him away as the king himself leans over to his wife.

  
Her grasp got stronger, worry evident in her welling eyes as she shook her head. “You promised. You promised not to leave me. I cannot do this without you!”

  
“Hush… I’m not leaving you,” he tells his wife. “I’m right here for you. I will always be right here for you. I promised, and I will not break my promise.”

  
There were three maids with them, rushing around to help with the labour. None of them were prepped for this, the midwife had not been called down for this due to the sudden outbreak of war. They requested for the king to stand aside; beads of sweat and tears rolling down the birthing woman’s face as she held onto her husband’s hand.

  
As the war waged closer, the king had to do what he had promised earlier as well. He joined the war where he was, but nobody knew that it was not truly him out in the battlefields. It was an image of him that he had sent out to fight and win. Each swing, each strike and each howl for motivation echoes the king’s true intentions, but truly he was not there. He was holding his wife’s hand, praying to the gods to ease his wife’s suffering.

  
Meanwhile, the maids were getting excited. The baby’s head could be seen, one said. The queen was encouraged to push and breathe and push once more. As she battles with fatigue and pain, loud noises of clashing could be heard from just outside the quarters’ doors and they all knew that the breach had come closer.

  
The king had to release his wife’s hand for the moment, wielding a sword to protect the ones in the quarters from the intruders. He fought fiercely and the enemy fell to the ground, only turning away when he hears the resonating sounds of a newborn’s cry from within.

  
It was that mere moment of lapse that caused him an injury. The assailants took a blow onto him, their sword slashing across the span of his back and sending him to one knee. The king managed to block the next blow with his own sword, turning round and stabbing the enemy straight through his chest.

  
The tired queen laid on her back, trying to recover as much energy as the maids helped to clean her and the baby up. One maid was attending to her, the other rushing to get what was needed and the third having been given the newborn baby in her arms. She had been urged to let the new mother see the child, let them bond and see each other for the first time.

  
But it was not in the maid’s mind to do that. Her eyes were fixated on the child in her arms, she was shaking.

  
“Reinir! Give the prince over to Her Majesty now!” the eldest maid of the three commands, her eyes growing wide at the young one’s actions as she staggers back and away from the bed.

  
“No…” the young maid whispers, shaking her head when she looks at the baby. She took a few steps back further and looked to the other maids and the queen. “No... “

  
“What are you doing? What are you doing with my baby?” the queen asks, a hand reaching out towards her child but still too weak to get up for him.

  
“A monster must not beget a child, for it becomes another monster…” the maid said, clutching the baby to herself and shaking her head.

  
It was then she grabbed a blade from the fruits bowl, raising it over her head as the horrified screams echoed in the room and through the halls. It was enough to lead the king back to the quarters, and in just enough time to see the crime the royal maid had committed.

  
It all happened too quickly. Within seconds, the blade had pierced through the newborn’s chest. The king’s sword had flung through the air and stuck itself to its target - the criminal’s throat. A collective of cries, wailing of grief at the loss of the newborn prince now in the king’s arms. He could not comprehend what he was seeing.

  
It was his baby, he hadn’t had the chance to even look at the baby the moment he came into this world and now he was gone.

  
Still clutching onto his now lifeless baby, the king was crying but the maids’ scream brought his attention back to his wife. The pain and suffering of both delivering the child and simultaneously losing him must have been unbearable. It didn’t need words to confirm the fact that the queen had gone to follow her son in another life.

  
The torturous howl of pain that echoed throughout the castle. Ice sculptures of the frosted palace shed tears for the loss the people had suffered that night. The king was once lonely, a cold-hearted man who only needed love to survive and now, even when the battle at war had been won, he lost so much.

  
The fire that would send the queen and her baby to the next life burned brighter than the pain within him, his rage fuelled by hatred and contempt. They had costed him everything he had ever loved, and now… They would pay for it too, in their blood.

  
Gasping awake, the painful memories of a distant past continues to haunt him even in his sleep. As he sits up in his bed, the night coupled with rain and flashes of lightning outside, he picks up the locket that rests on his chest.

  
It was a gold chain with a locket that opened to reveal a picture of his beloved wife. His queen who had left to be with their son. It reminds him of every evil that had happened to them and it fuels his rage to carry on. He would not die, not before he finishes the war that his enemies had waged once before.

  
The small device on his bedside table beeped, lighting up to show a message that was sent for him.

  
_Fury requested to see you, Loki. Please be here in the morning. - S.R._

  
Of course, they would get the good old Captain America to send messages to him. Steve Rogers has always been such a pacifist when it comes to dealing with old enemies. Wasn’t that what they made of him?

  
Even when Loki had agreed to abide to their puny laws of mortals, even when they had made him a criminal in a realm that would soon forget him in a century. Even when Loki had fallen in love with one of them.

  
The beautiful Natasha Romanoff. Fierce, strong, unrelenting and fearless. She was everything a warrior would dream to be and she was everything he never dreamed to have fallen in love for, but did it not happen?

  
Did they not come to meet? Did they not sign themselves off in a treaty to ensure peace between their realms? Did they not end up falling in love with each other the longer they spent time together?

  
And then Loki had wished upon a dying star. He had wanted to change for the better, for the future of his marriage with Natasha and to give her everything he could have wanted. He had given up trying to spite Thor for sport and instead gone back to the realm he had once hated so much; Jotunheimr.

  
He demanded for his birthright as the son of Laufey and he contended to be the ruler. It was no easy trip up the throne, but he finally got it. He was finally king as he had once been promised to be and most importantly, he managed to give his wife a kingdom to rule as a gift for their marriage.

  
But happiness was not enough. The heroes of Earth had to decide whether or not what Loki was doing was right. It seems that the trickster king had coerced their friend to abscond from the treaty and even took over a realm. They couldn’t believe their friend when she told them that she had fallen in love, they couldn’t believe her when she said she was happy.

  
And it was that disbelief that led to war, ultimately it led to their own friend’s death.

  
And the baby. The miracle of a child that both Loki and Natasha knew was impossible to be conceived. The child was one he never thought would come into their lives. How they had prepared to welcome the little one into their happy family. How they had imagined the palace would start getting noisier with the little child’s ruckus. How happy had they been… only to be wrenched away from their grasps.

  
Loki could not stop the angry tears that flowed down from his eyes as he remembers what had happened just a few years ago. The war waged on his land that costed him everything. Now here he is, back on Earth to face the mortals who never seemed to be regretting their actions. It seems, Loki was where he should be. Watched at all times of the day, cuffed with enchanted metal, branded with runes to ensure he would not use his magic for mischief here in this tower of heroes.

  
As he clenches his fists in anger, the green wisps of magic formed itself around his fingers, accompanied with burning red marks on his skin which reminds him to stop. The runes were working hard to discourage him from using his magic, but what could he do? It was the pain that kept him alive. It was the pain that reminds him of his suffering. It was the pain that would keep him going.

  
Letting out a grunt as he reaches his limits, he falls back onto the bed and stared at the ceiling with his hands over his face. He did not ask for this. All he ever wanted was to be loved, to be held, to be happy. And the universe reminds him over and over again that he was not meant for that. The only thing he was worthy of was to be the hero of his own mind, and a villain to the rest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this fic at least a year ago as a one shot but for some reason never got around to posting it up. So here we go.  
> Comments are most welcome! Thank you for reading this fic.


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